


two floors

by netflixing



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Stoner!Calum - Freeform, based on a au idea, chef!Michael, malum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netflixing/pseuds/netflixing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calum's lived in this apartment complex for almost a year now and he'd never heard of someone moving in yet, but that's when Michael came along. With his boxes of cookware and his obnoxious red hair, Calum didn't even care, but maybe just a little bit.</p><p>or<br/>“I’m trying to make macaroni but I’ve burnt 3 pans and set off the fire alarm and I heard the man above us say you were a chef please help” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

“Shit,” Calum has said that word so many times now, the entire word has lost its meaning. 

Its currently 2am, he’s in his kitchenette in just boxers, and Calum’s got the munchies for macaroni and his apartment smells vaguely of weed and cheap cigarettes.

He makes a mental note to buy some scented candles or some Febreeze before his parents and Mali came to visit again.

He debates whether or not to text his mom asking how to make pasta, but then he realizes, _Calum, its really fucking late in Australia right now and you’re a goddamn adult, you can make some macaroni._

Squinting his eyes at the back of the box, he tugs at his hair in frustration. “What the hell? How do you bring something to a boil?” he mumbled, resting his forehead against the cabinets.

He could hear movement above him, and silently hoped his neighbours don’t hate him, whom he didn’t even know half. He only knew his landlord, who was a tall angry man named George who liked to yell a lot and send Calum emails with the subject line **“ RENT’S LATE AGAIN HOOD** ” with an angry face emoji. But according to George, there was a new tenant.

_“There’s a new boy moving in upstairs, 212.” George had mentioned to Calum, while Calum had his head halfway into his mailbox._

_Calum jerked his head up abruptly, hitting his head off of the small metal door. "Ow, shit." Who?”_

_“Some boy. Flame haired, tattoo, piercings, lots of swears. Chef at that new restaurant downtown, good reviews. Brought a ton of boxes, I don’t know where he’s going to fit it all”. George threw his hands up in a gesture that probably meant "boy is not cut out for apartment living"_ _  
_

_George was an italian man that spoke in short little sentences, and like to keep her personal life and his work life far away from each other, and Calum didn’t mind at all._

 Calum glared at the three pans that rested in the sink, one atop of the other, threatening to topple over onto the floor at any second. They were all burnt, grease stains along the sides, due to Calum’s “cooking skills”.  His mother didn’t even know what kept him alive most days, Calum living on sandwiches, frozen dinners and various takeout meals.

“Fuck this,” He mumbled, pulling on a tee-shirt, stomping down the hall and up the stairs. Apartment 212 was just like the others from the outside, the brass numbers on the door looking as crooked as ever. Calum puffed out his cheeks, exhaling a breath. He honestly had no dignity right now, asking his fellow tenant to make him food at the early hour. But, at the same time, he still was kinda baked. 

“212,” Calum huffed, kicking the door lightly, when there was no answer he tried again, “Hey 212, open up.” and delivered a slightly harder kick to the door. Once he could hear the shuffle of footsteps he stepped aside.

* * *

 

The boy of 212 who answered the door, was not what Calum expected.  George got most parts right about him, the hair, the tattoos and the piercings. He had firetruck red hair that stuck out in strange places, a few tattoos that looked like such a contrast compared to the other boy’s pale skin, and Calum noticed the eyebrow piercing, poking out from underneath. But what the landlord had failed to mention, was that this boy was really attractive, even when looking like he just rolled out of bed.

“Uhm Hello?” a voice snapped Calum out of his thoughts and he gave a cough, looking up to look at the boy at the door.

"M’Calum, 119, and welcome to the hell that is the apartment complex” He said with a light laugh, cursing himself for not making a better interaction.

“Michael, uhm” He paused to look briefly at the number on the door “212, and thank you Calum, I’m enjoying hell so far. But why the interaction at-” the boy peered inside his apartment, looking at a clock “2:25 am?” Michael flashed a smile, brushing his hands off.

“So I heard from that landlord that you’re a chef? Because I really suck at cooking and I just almost burnt down this whole building trying to make a simple pot of macaroni, and I’m super fucking hungry, and I’m such a shitty cook, can you help me out?” Calum blurts out, making a effort to half-smile.

“You _don’t_ know how to make EasyMac?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Well yes, I mean no, ‘cause I can’t cook for shit, like the microwave is the extent of any kitchen appliance I will use.”

“You _don’t_ have an oven in your apartment?”

“Yes, but it has all these buttons and dials and its like ‘ _I just want some food, stop fucking with me Mr. Oven_ ’” The imitations of inanimate things was the result of Calum being high, and thinking everything could talk to him.

Michael leant against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with a chuckle. “You seem desperate enough, come in and I’ll make you the best macaroni this side of town.”

Calum’s eyes lit up, like he’d won the lottely or some other fantastic prize and smiled “Well, uh thank you? I’m really sorry I’m not dressed better.” He said, looking down at his boxers and ratty concert teeshirt.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it,” Micheal said with a laugh, extending the door for Calum to come in

“Besides your polar bear boxers are cute.”

 


	2. two

“Excuse the mess, I’m still in the process of unpacking.” Michael said as he made his way around stacks of cardboard boxes to get to the small pantry.

“Don’t worry about it, my apartment’s not something you’ll see on the next cover of ‘Architectural Digest,” Calum laughed, standing by the kitchen counter. He realized he didn’t really have any friends who lived in the complex, considering it was one of the complexes that actually fit the budget of a struggling head shop employee.

That was the thing about Calum, he had the potential to do so much, to achieve, to succeed. After one semester in university planning for a graduation with a bachelors degree hedropped out, no red flags or warning signs, just unexpected. He became secluded, in a numb state and turned to drugs, marijuana and tobacco mostly, although he had been known to dabble in narcotics. There was a certain pain behind his eyes that couldn’t been seen by the naked eye. He’d been living paycheck to paycheck for a while, hiding from his family, not wanting their pity money or sympathy. He was fine; he was still alive wasn’t he?

“Uh you can sit down yknow? The stools wont rear up and eat you?” Michael’s voice interrupted his thoughts once again. He had pushed his hair back with a baseball cap and was crouching slightly over the stove surveying his ingredients. Calum couldn’t help but snicker to himself. The apartment set-up was clearly not made in mind for a 6ft tall male.

“O-oh sorry!” Calum said embarrassingly, pulling one of the bar stools out, cringing as it made an increasingly loud sound as it scraped across the hardwood floor.

“Sorry,” Calum apologized again, internally reprimanding himself for being so awkward.

“God Calum! You woke up the whole entire second floor!” Michael laughed, turning out to playfully flip off Calum, “ I _could_ have been getting my extra hours of sleep, but some _fucker with polar bear boxers_ decided he’d enlist the chef of 212 to make mac and cheese. Thanks Cal!” Michael teased.

Calum laughed, blushing, looking down at the stupid boxers, he honestly didn’t even know where they came from, maybe a white elephant gift from Christmas-time years past, or a ‘gift’ from a one night stand.

* * *

Michael had turned on the small radio while he waited for the pot to come to a boil and spent a good five minuets trying to find a station that wasn’t static or top 20 hits. He finally settled on a classic rock station and messed with the volume controls, finding a comfortable balance. He got to work at the countertop, bopping his head to the music and laying out the different ingredients, as he started to whisk up a cheese sauce, adding various things to the bowl.

Calum pulled his legs up to rest atop of the rungs underneath the barstool, unashamedly just admiring Michael. The way his forehead creased when he concentrated, or how his eyebrows would unknowingly furrow while he tasted the sauce. Calum could see, clear as day on Michael’s face, the boy’s passion for culinary arts.

“Taste this, is it good?” Michael was holding a small tasting spoon in front of the dark haired boy. Calum took the spoon, brushing hands during the trade-off.

“Mm,” Calum filled, letting the flavours overwhelm his tastebuds, and his thick eyebrows shot up in surprise “Mm, its cheese, I know that, but what’s the spice? I like it. A lot. Michael this is really fucking good!” Calum said enunciating his praise

Michael grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. “Sriracha sauce, and three different cheeses. You didn’t think I was going to make boring mac and cheese, did you? But I’m glad you like it!”

Calum smiled back, he couldn’t help it, Michael’s grin was infectious. He scooped up some of the sauce from his spoon on his finger and pressed it onto Michael nose, chuckling.

“You sneaky little shit” Michael hissed, but laughed as well, bringing the hem of his shirt up to wipe off the sauce.

“Come here, I’ll show you how to make sure the pasta’s done, chef’s secret.” Michael called, Calum popping up behind him, and peering over his shoulder.

 Michael picked a elbow macaroni noodle from the wooden spoon and picked it up by the pads of his fingers.

“Watch,” He said as he, almost expertly threw the noodle onto the cabinet doors, watching it stick to the wood.

“You're such a dork,” Calum laughed, walking over to throw the noodle into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

“ You should teach me how to cook Michael,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ee thank you guys for all your feedback and kudos on ch1!  
> hope you like it !  
> xx  
> next couple of chapters may be slow bc ofc finals (ew)


	3. three

“Where the fuck is oregano Michael?” The phone was sandwiched between Calum’s ear and his shoulder as he pushed a bright red wheeled cart through the grocery store. There were supposed to be making pizza tonight, but Michael apparently decided to be a dick and make Calum get all the ingredients.

It wasn’t a date, or it technically wasn’t considered a date to Calum. 

“Its by the spices, near the back. Did you get the flour?” Michael asked from the other end, he was technically supposed to be back to work five minuets ago, but that plan failed after Calum’s multiple texts of: **“mikey wtf”**.

But, Michael wouldn’t budge from their original plan of making pizza and watching reality TV, so here he was, hiding from his boss in a pantry closet.

“Wait, what does it look like? Why does some of this look like cheap drugs? Mikey, can we _smoke_ the oregano?” Calum grinned, looking over the shopping list taped to his cart.

Michael tilted his head back against the shelves reassuring Calum that no,you could not smoke oregano and it came in a bottle and it was crushed.

“Calum, I’ve really got to go now, like right now, you’ll find the rest of the stuff, just don’t over think it.” Michael said hurriedly hoping the kitchen hadn’t gone to total shit in the ten minuets he was gone. The redhead quickly shut off his phone, stuffing it into the back pocket of his slacks, and fixed the buttons on his coat, stepping back into the organized chaos he called his workplace.

* * *

 

“Open up fucker” Calum called with two tall paper bags filled to the top and, finding himself yet again at the door of 212.

Michael’s face appeared behind the door, his face forming into a smile “You made it! Did you find everything okay?”

“I bought frozen pizza dough and canned tomatoes.” Calum joked, grinning as he walked into Michael’s apartment, and setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

“That’s it, out, out of my apartment, you’re a disgrace to me.” Michael laughed, starting to unpack the ingredients.

“Did you make anything exciting today?” It was casually conversation, but Calum stole a glimpse of Michael as he extravagantly used his hands to talk about the size of sea bass he had to cook as a main dish today and how he styled the scallops.

Calum nodded along, using the proper facial cues when necessary, not knowing what to say about words like seared and a ‘herb butter pan sauce’

“What did you study, yknow in university?” Michael asked, searching his drawers for a can opener.

“I-uh bachelors degree in arts, but didn’t end up completing it, dropped out.” The other boy said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Oh.” Was all Michael had to say before chattering on about what shows were on the Food Network tonight, which Calum was grateful for. the two bickering about what Gordan Ramsey show was the best.

Pizza making, was actually pretty simple. Dough. Sauce. Toppings. Oven. Calum let Michael take the lead in the kitchen, helping to read off the recipe or to mix or measure something.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch in the living room, occasionally fighting over the remote and kicking each other playfully.

“So is this like a date?” Michael suddenly asked out of the blue, taking a sip from his soda.

“Uh, uhm, I mean, I don’t know, Like?” Calum sputtered, at a loss for words.

“Well you’re kinda hot Hood, and I’m mostly sure you’ve been heart eyeing me since the first day I moved in.” Michael chuckled, switching his gaze to meet Calum’s.

“So, I guess it’s a date?” Calum smiled, half-shrugging his shoulders

“It’s a date,” Michael chimed back before realizing “Our pizza’s going to burn in like 20 seconds if we don’t take it out.” Which was met with Calum’s laughs as they both stumbled to get off the couch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so sorry this is so late!  
> finals and tests and assignments were aaaaa  
> but winter break is here, so more time to write!
> 
> also i just realized i wrote this at like 2am so there was editing that needed to be done.. but thats done now, so enjoy this fic by me(malum trash)


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a new chapter!  
> hope y'all dnt hate me that much lmao  
> enjoy!  
> **also this is kinda short bc i wrote it really fast rip

Sunday 6 PM

Michael paced in his apartment, listening to the dial tone coming from his phone before hanging his head as he heard the call automatically go to voicemail, the all too familiar voice of Calum’s. He hadn’t heard from the dark haired boy in a few days, and Michael was worrying. He didn’t want to go as far as walk to Calum’s apartment, but for now he’d just spam the phone with texts and voicemails, hoping for an answer. 

"Hi uh Calum? Its me, Michael, you said you would come over to watch Top Chef tonight and you haven't come yet and I dunno if you still want to come or not, or if you've just decided to hot box yourself in your shitty BMW again, but yeah um call me, Michael." 

* * *

Two Hours Later

Calum finished hooking up his speaker to an outlet and tested it, the speakers booming out his rap playlist. He made his way to the kitchen, swaying as he walked before he heard a knock at the door. He was so used to not looking through the peephole, that he swung it open with a grin, his facial features dropping within seconds as he saw who his guests were. He quickly shut off the music and with a nod gestured for the three 6 foot whatever Italian men to come in.

“Gentleman, why the visit? If I knew, I would have made muffins for us all,” Calum knew very well he was pushing his luck, but even in times like these his sarcasm shone through.

“Cut the shit Calum, you know why were here, you promised us 55 grams of pure cocaine by today,” The first man spoke, heavily accented. “Mind elaborating?”

Calum felt like a noose was around his neck and with every question and answer he could feel his throat tightening already.

“Ahem, Well you see, my dear friends, I’m not into that kind of business anymore, and haven’t been for the longest time. “ He pulled a convincing grin “More into the down to earth sort of stuff, if you know what I mean,” He gave a sly smile to one of the gentlemen, hoping he could weasel his way out with his charm once again.

“Our employer isn’t looking for shrooms or weed. He’s a serious buyer, if you catch our drift.”

The imaginary noose scratched at Calum’s neck, his skin starting to become coarse and uncomfortable.

Calum shot up from the sofa, the words spilling out of his mouth with no applicable filter. “Gentlemen it really was a pleasure, send my regards to your employer, we must meet for drinks sometime..” He rambled, making his way towards the door.

“Hood, you are a.. _muto uomo_ , yes, how do you say in English?” One of the men gesticulated, glancing towards the others.

The largest man out of the group stepped forward “Ahem, What my colleague meant to say is that you are a very stupid man Hood, very stupid indeed.”

And that’s when Calum swore he felt like the stool was being kicked out from under him and the noose settle around his neck.

* * *

Everything hurt. His eye, his cheeks, his lip. Pain. Throbbing. The only thoughts came to his mind as he lay on the concrete. He's pretty confident he is somewhere around the outside perimeter of the apartment complex, hoping, even praying someone will find him.

Calum was never very religious, his family Christmases were always fairly low-key, spending a lot of the time with family or soaking up the sun, but never cramped up in a drafty church with dying old people trying to shake his hand. But at this very moment,

He prayed. He pleaded to the sky to let him have more time  _please._ He  _needed_ more time. To travel, to try new things,to fall in love, to know the feeling of anothers arms around him, and the warmth that it could bring. Calum rolled slightly from his position on the concrete and quickly made the conclusion that the drug cartel members had bound his arms and legs together with cables, a trail of bitter, angry swears tumbling past his lips. 

His mind was swimming with questions but he could not help but start to tear himself apart as his cheek lay against the cold surface. 

Why was he so idiotic getting involved in one of the most notorious narcotics operation in the city? Just for some extra cash? What would Michael think of him?

"Oh god, Michael" Calum thought, his self-loathing becoming deeper by the minute. He wiggled and squirmed to no success, the knot were in tight, if the men ever needed a second job, a sailor would be a perfect fit.

The mix of salt and copper filled his mouth as somewhere on his face began to bleed again, and Calum pleaded again to the skies, watching the airplanes flash and move in the sky, a sense of serenity as he watched them, it hit him like a ton of brick that he was oh-so small in this vast universe and he was all but a star in Michael's bright sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this is my first piece of work here on ao3!  
> I've mainly just been reading fics bc I'm trash lol  
> so yeah


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